I may have been short, but I learned how to elbow, kick, and snitch with the best of them to get my basic needs met. Then I joined the military, where I developed next-level skills.
Perhaps I should thank my lucky stars that the last three years were relatively bully-free in my Halckon Mistress’s house. I was the only slave, and although there was a ton of work to do, there was no one around to torment me.
I’ve never felt as vulnerable as I do tonight. All those people in that gymnasium waiting forThe Gameto begin were bigger and stronger than me. I need Titan more than I want to admit.
This place, bathed in watery moonlight, is eerie. The path we’re walking must have been bombed into oblivion. There’s nothing but rubble the size of my fist or smaller. About a block from our path, there are buildings—a small abandoned city—that look like a bombed-out war zone.
It’s silent except for the occasional squeak of a rodent.
“Is it time to head north?” I ask even as I wonder when I gave up any fight for supremacy and handed total decision-making power to Titan.
“Attention all contestants,” a female voice emits from the two drones that have been following us since we left the building. “Government regulations require us to give you a six-hour break. You have ten minutes to seek shelter. From that moment, if you move more than ten feet from your location, we will set your collar to 10-power until you expire. We want to ensureThe Gameis fair.”
“Fair,” I snort in derision.
“We’ll shelter in one of these buildings. Hurry,” he says as he takes off. I limp after him. He’s able-bodied and can see in the dark. I’ll let him do recon because he’s going to reach our destination before me. I hope he picks the least rat-infested structure.
“They’ll be unstable,” I call to him. “Watch out.”
Ten minutes later, we’re huddled on the second floor of what might have been an old apartment house. It smells like dust and cement. I relieved myself outside before I entered. I don’t want to break the ten-foot rule, nor do I want to go to the bathroom in front of Titan.
“Time,” the AI says. “Out of one-hundred contestants, forty-seven remain alive. Three have reached the goal. Government regulations mandate you receive one bottle of water and one nutrition bar, which we will deliver to you by drone. Update, forty-six remain alive, two have reached the goal.”
Titan
I knew it was smart to avoid a direct route. There must have been several skirmishes resulting in a high death toll. The last casualty they announced must have been at the flag.
“Even if we reach the flag, how are we going to win against all the other contestants?” Slayer asks. “The people who are already there are going to pick us off.”
“I don’t know, but worry does no good. Get some sleep.”
I use my booted foot to scrape enough rubble out of the way to lie down. When I watch her doing the same, she sucks in a harsh breath. She’s clearly in pain, so I lift her out of the way and do it for her.
“Thanks.”
Trusting neither the other contestants nor the producers, we spent our last minute putting rocks on the steps, hoping it would warn us of intruders. During our last few seconds, we gathered larger pieces of the crumbling structure and put them across the open doorway to trip an intruder or at least alert us. Our steel bars are lying beside us. If someone enters, they’ll be the only weapons we have.
As I lie down I notice my back for the first time since I arrived at The Game. My species heals fast. The plating on my back is especially hearty. Between the painkillers and my metabolism, I’m out of pain. I’ll be fully healed by morning.
“The cement is cold,” Slayer says when she lies down.
We’re inches from each other, face to face. In the gymnasium, I thought she looked bland and unattractive, but she’s grown on me.
She’s staring at me and for the first time in my life, I want to ask another person what they’re thinking. I won’t, though. It’s obvious she doesn’t like me. It’s equally obvious that if a miracle happens and we both get to the flag, I’m going to have to kill her.
The drones’ small vid screens flash and draw our attention with the word “Ranking”. Next to the picture with my name it says “4/46” and hers says “46/46”. A moment later, the screens read “4/45” and “45/45.” I’m surprised I’m not ranked higher. Hahn may have falsified my identity, but no one could look at me and not realize I’m a gladiator.
My drone’s screen informs me I have 122 credits to spend. I choose to buy four nutrition bars since they’re so generously supplying only one and I haven’t eaten all day.
Slayer’s drone says she has 6,001 credits. She’s high on the credits tote board, a favorite with the viewers, although she’s ranked last in her odds to win.
“I don’t have enough for a laser rifle. Crap,” she says, her gaze scrolling through the menu as if she thinks she’ll find an ion cannon in her price range.
When she tries to buy a laser pistol, the AI informs her, “That option is not available at this time,” and turns off.
“Shit!” she yells. “You could have at least let me buy food!”
“I’ll give you one of my bars,” I offer before I can stop myself.
